la sicurezza del capo :: giorno x reader

capitolo 7 :: venditore temporanea

Wattpad maintenance has me fucked. Sorry for the late update again. :(
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Briefing that morning was rather interesting.

"Alright, everyone," you say, looking at the paper you had been given and leaning against the podium. "You all know about Ms. Trish, right? Well, today we've been deployed on leisure dispatch. She's going shopping."

Someone in the back of the room scoffs. "Aw, not again!" That comment makes you and the room laugh. "Ah, I know, person who said that. Anyways, here's how we're carrying this out:

"Along with regular undercover guard positioned throughout the store, we're going to need a couple people to be placed as undercover salesman. Volunteers?" You look around the room. No one raises their hand.

"Alright. If I get 5 volunteers, I'll be the makeup saleswoman and the lady who hands you clothes while you're in the dressing room."

11 people raise their hand and snicker, causing you to sigh.

"Oh, god. You are all going to be the death of me."
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You walk out into the showroom wearing a saleswoman outfit, a look of wanting to taste the sweet embrace of death on your face. An undercover Praesidio looks at you and stifles a laugh, and you shoot her a look. "You're lucky. I could have made this be you."

Taking your place at the counter, you sigh and look around at all of the products stacked along the shelf. You're definitely screwed if anyone asks about any of them.

You notice a small stack of perfumes on one shelf, and smile to yourself. "I'm technically not lying to Giorno, aren't I? I'm a temporary saleswoman!"

That's when Trish walks in, and on instinct, you give the cheesiest smile you could manage and chirp out a "Welcome!"

She smiles at you and goes to ask your colleague some questions about makeup. Or something.

"Okay, okay...how am I gonna pull this off?" You thought to yourself, adjusting the collar of your shirt. "Okay, alright, if I act like I'm actually supposed to be here, I can play this off. Now, what am I gonna get for dinner tonight..."

You think for a while before your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of several products being dropped on the counter.

You look up at Trish and smile again. "W-will this be all?" She nods. You scan the products, applauding yourself internally. "Alright, you're doing great, doing great..."

"First day?"

You look up at her and cock your head a little, trying to process if that was an insult or a genuine question. "Uh, sort of. I just got back from injury leave, so I'm adjusting...!" She laughs. "Aw, I'm sorry. What happened?"

"Oh, I broke my arm." You place the last item in the bag. "Your total is €89.10." It takes all your might to not gasp. That's a lot of money for makeup.

She slides the money on the counter as you hand her the bag. "Thanks for coming! See you again!" And with that, she gives one last smile as she walks out of the store.

You practically jump over the counter and run to the back of the store with the other "saleswoman". "Switch!" You cry into your little radio, "where's she headed to?!"

"The Prada a ways down," the radio answers back. You nod. "Alright. Release the salespeople from the back while we change."
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Making a mad dash for the Prada down the street in heels, you burst through the back door just as the last saleswoman, passed out on chloroform, being dragged to the back by another undercover Praesidio.

You run over to one of the piles of clothes that the real saleswoman was beginning to put away. "Alright. Get her to the back and assume position, she's almost here!"

Just as your co-worker locks the back door, Trish strolls in. "Hi there!" You greet her, but she stops and gives you a funny look. Oh, crap. Did she notice you're the same person...?

"I could have sworn I'd seen you earlier..." she mutters. You giggle nervously. "Yeah, if you went to the makeup shop down there you probably met my twin."

"Ooooh," she mutters. "Well, never mind!"

You begin to put away the clothes on the table, shifting around the store in your heels while trying to figure out everything's place. You'd never been to a Prada (maybe because you could only afford a pair of pants from there) so you had no ideas how this store was laid out.

Just as you finished putting everything away, someone -- presumably Trish -- tapped you on the shoulder.

Your suspicions were correct as you turned around. She stood there with almost a whole rack of clothes draped over her folded arms. "Is there a changing room in the back, by any chance?"

You nod. "Um, yes! Back here..." (in reality, you had absolutely no idea where the changing rooms were. Thankfully, it was pretty obvious by the sign near the back of the store. Oh could have looked a little harder, Trish.)

She walks inside the little room, and not really knowing what to do, you awkwardly stand a little father away from the door.

"Miss?" She asks, causing you to scurry to the door. "Yes, ma'am?" She plops a dress in your arm through the crack in the door. "By any chance, do you have this in a smaller size?"

"Yes we do! I'll be right back!" And with that, you dash to the showroom once again. It takes you a little while to track down the exact same dress from the store.

You pick out the next smallest size. You get a little curious and peek at the price tag. "Hm, I wonder how much this costs--

" €2868, geez...she must have money to burn."
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"Thank you for coming!" You say just as she leaves the store, four huge bags in hand.

You lean against the counter, exhausted. Your co-worker place walks over and places a hand on your shoulder. "Bless the people who do this for a living," she mutters. "I know, right?" Pulling your radio up to your mouth, you mutter to release the salespeople once again.

You look at your co-worker with a smile. "I'm drained. Wanna go get ice cream?"
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A/N
-Mom